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Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit/Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste/Brought death into the world, and all our woe,/With loss of Eden, till one greater Man/Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,/Sing heavenly muse

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
First
Brought
Seat
Blissful
Men
Whose
Mortal
Regain
World
Loss
Seats
Eden
Taste
Mortals
Woe
Tree
Heavenly
Restore
Greater
Till
Disobedience
Death
Fruit
Muse
Firsts
Sing
Forbidden

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Virtue that wavers is not virtue.
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Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
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And yet on the other hand unless warinesse be us'd, as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image, but hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills reason it selfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye.
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And these gems of Heav'n, her starry train.
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Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.
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The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.
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Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny for no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them.
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Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
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My latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!
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But infinite in pardon is my Judge.
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Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
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Assuredly we bring not innocence not the world, we bring impurity much rather: that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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Yet much remains To conquer still peace hath her victories No less renowned then war, new foes arise Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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Lords are lordliest in their wine.
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For to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
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